


And We’ll Chase The Fire

by beanside



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 18:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13980693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanside/pseuds/beanside
Summary: I had some feelings about the post credit scene.  This happened.





	And We’ll Chase The Fire

“Bucky.” The word slipped out without intent, but he couldn’t fault it. He wasn’t the Soldier anymore. This slip of a girl had made sure of that. Shuri treated impossibilities like they were nothing more than a whim on the part of nature. She’d woken him up in less than a month, told him she’d taken care of the triggers like they hadn’t been created and reinforced over years—decades of pain and terror. 

He hadn’t believed her until she’d recited them twice. Her Russian was precise and clipped as any of his handlers. He hadn’t felt a thing. Then, he’d quietly, and unceremoniously had a panic attack-first laughing until he couldn’t catch his breath, then sobbing. He’d never expected to wake up again.

And now, “call me Bucky.” 

Was he Bucky? He could have become someone new. Could shed his skin and be Barnes, or James, or someone new. Shuri would help him walk away if he wanted. Leave the violence behind, and stay in this little village to raise sheep or something.

He could have said, “call me Joshua, or Daniel,” and that would have been the end for Bucky Barnes-who-had-been-the-Winter-Soldier. He could have been free. Steve would have understood, and stayed away. He’d be content that Bucky was safe, even if it broke his heart a little.

He would never have been free. He’d have wondered every day if this was the day Steve’s luck ran out. If he was bleeding the last of his life into some gutter when a gun at his back would have saved him.

It was tempting to say he didn’t deserve peace. That he needed to absolve himself of the Winter Soldier’s crimes. It wasn’t even a lie. He remembered every single victim. Every murder. Every time Hydra had used him to maim and intimidate. Men, women, children, dead or damaged under his hands.

But he would be honest with himself. From the day Steve had broken Hydra’s programming (and thank God the Russian branch hadn’t trusted the Americans with the book) he’d known who he was. 

It was simple math. If there was a Steve Rogers, there was going to be a Bucky Barnes. So. 

He followed Shuri onto the small jet she’d flown out to the village in. “Any word from the team?”

“Mr. Wilson reports that they are almost done with cleanup, and may return as soon as tomorrow.”

“Well, If Mr. Wilson says so.” He stamped down on the faintly waspish edge his voice wanted to take on. 

“Steve is doing well,” she assured him. “The Captain has made many friends helping the border tribe with rebuilding the dam.” 

Bucky felt his mouth twitch. “And helping the herding tribe with building new fences, and the-“

“You make it sound like we’re using him for free labor!” Shuri chided.

“No, ma’am. It’s sound tactical thinking. A busy Steve is one who’ll stay out of trouble.”

“You would think,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“What did he do?” 

“There was a raiding party that attacked last night. They were not prepared for a large white man to come barreling out of the tent in his underwear. It was over quickly.”

He felt a laugh bubble up. “Of course it was.” 

She giggled. “They were half convinced that a vengeful pale ghost had risen up to stop them. Mr. Wilson has been calling him Captain Pale Ass.” 

Bucky’s lips twitched. 

“Now, before they return tomorrow, we have some business to discuss back at my lab.”

He nodded, and settled into the seat of the plane, a lump in his throat. He trusted Shuri as much as he trusted anyone, but that sounded ominous. “How is His Highness’s trip going?” It was an inane question, but it would keep his mind from dwelling on all the other labs he’d been in. 

“Very well. I think Wakanda is ready to change the world. And I can finally start patenting some of my tech for general use! I’m going to rub Stark’s face in it,” Shuri crowed, guiding the plane onto the bay with a deft touch. 

Bucky followed her down the spiral, marveling again that he’d lived to see all the pulp science fiction stories become just science. And he’d become the monster in them.

She paused at her lab, and gestured at a table. “I mocked these up for you.”

Three arms, one gleaming silver, one a matte black, and one that looked disturbingly like it had just been pulled off a human. 

“I’ve known you were going back to the fight since the moment I saw you and Steve come limping into Wakanda. He looks at you like you’re the moon to his tide—always pulling, even when he can’t see you.” Shuri waved a hand dismissively. “But everyone knows that, if they read history books.” 

“I don’t—“ he started. “It’s the other way around. I followed Steve, he just never got that. He’s good. The kind that only exists in books.”

“Achilles and Patroclus come to mind,” Shuri muttered. 

“I read Steve a book on mythology the year he got rheumatic fever. It’s not like that.” He narrowed his eyes. 

Shuri raised one arched brow. 

“It’s not like that anymore,” he amended. “We fooled around before I got drafted. It didn’t mean anything, just two kids.”

Shuri snorted. “Yes, the man who cried after we froze you certainly only felt a little friendly affection. I have recordings— fine. I have three arms for your consideration. This one was modeled after scans of your right arm. The skin is a nano polymer, a little bit like the panther suit, but flesh tone. It will lock into the socket you have, and then the skin will form a vacuum seal. Without close inspection, it will just look like an arm.”

“It locks in the existing socket?”

Shuri made a face. “At the moment, yes. I have some ideas on a new socket, but they’re not ready yet. All three are considerably lighter than the prior arm, so they shouldn’t cause nearly the same level of pain.”

He’d been a little shocked when he was woken, how good he’d felt. With Wakandan technology, they’d healed all the bruises and cracked bones (and micro tears in his spine from fighting at that level with the arm) he’d received during the fight with T’Challa, and the one with Tony. He’d woken comfortable and warm, with no background noise of pain. 

Some of it had come back-you couldn’t spend seventy years with the level of abuse done to him and not have its effects written in his bones. Still, the low level pain in his neck and head were more than tolerable. 

“This is the stealth model. It can look like a normal arm, but it’s a hologram. It’s not as strong as the others, but still stronger than what you’d had. And it’s totally anti reflective and will make sure you don’t show up on thermal surveillance.”

Bucky ran a finger over the cool metal. “I’m not sure I’m a stealth kind of guy.”

Shuri smiled. “You’re friends with Steve Rogers, so no, probably not. Now, this one is both the most visibly like your old one, minus the red star. It’s also the least like it. It’s lightweight, completely bulletproof, and will take a rocket without a dent. I do not recommend that, as you are not made of vibranium. I modeled the strength after Captain Rogers and Thor. It has one hold out blade in the forearm.”

It would mean owning who he’d been, to wear this one. It put everything right up front. It-had Steve’s shield on the bicep. Past, present and future, then. 

“This one.”

“Awesome. I guessed right. Sit on that stool if you’d be so kind, and stretch your shoulder like you’re reaching up.” She flicked the rubber cap off, and lifted the new arm. “It won’t have sensation when I put it on. That’s programmed to come up over the course of an hour, so it won’t be overwhelming.”

It slid into place with a click, and he heard the whir of connectors locking it onto him. A bit of a difference from the rivets and bolts the old one had used. With a shiver of the plates, it was done, before he had time to panic.

The positional awareness came first, almost instantaneously. He knew he had an arm, and where it was. Aside from that, he felt a light pull on his shoulder, but nothing like what he’d had before. 

Shuri handed him some vibranium blocks to play with, and so his first sensation was, smooth, hard. Twenty minutes later, he could feel the edge of the block, the rough spot where it had been machined. Then came temperature, the coolness of metal. And he could tell it was metal. 

He sat the block down and touched the desktop. Cool, faint texture. Laminate. His clothes, body warm, woolen, soft, the threads providing a new texture.

He looked up. “It feels real.”

“It is.”

“The other one never felt real.”

“My guess is that they didn’t want it to, because the hookup was capable. Maybe I’m wrong and the tech wasn’t up to that—“

“No. They didn’t want me to think I was human. That was a big Hydra thing. I was The Soldier or the Asset. I was an “it,” never he.”

“Had Captain Rogers not dealt with them, I would be tempted to send the Dora Milaje after Hydra.”

“Give it time, they’ll be back,or someone like them,” Bucky said. “Can’t kill evil. Can just fight it back for a while.”

“You are a pessimist,” Shuri said. 

“Realist,” Bucky countered.

“Maybe a touch,” she allowed. “After all, I cannot say it wasn’t warranted. Now, I told you about the recent troubles we had with my brother’s ascension to the throne. I did not mention that we had another guest who arrived with grave injuries-another American.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “A broken white boy for you to fix?”

Shuri’s cheeks pinked. “I hadn’t realized you’d heard that. I apologize.”

“Why? It was true.”

She shrugged. “It was tactless.”

“Honesty is always better than pretty bullshit.”

“Okay. He’s a CIA operative who helped with your capture. Everett Ross. After things settled down, my brother provided information he’d gotten from Siberia, and other bases. He’d like to speak with you.”

Bucky stared at Shuri for a long moment. “Do I need to be worried about this?” He asked bluntly.

“No. Wakanda has offered you asylum, and that is not changing. He would just like to meet you.” She met his gaze and held it, even though he knew a little of the Soldier’s coldness was bleeding into his eyes.

He blinked forcing down the cold fear, and beneath it, the always present boiling rage. Shuri didn’t deserve that from him. “If you think it’s a good idea,” he finally allowed.

“I do. As does my brother.”

Bucky nodded. “When?”

“Fifteen minutes. I thought you might want to change into something more comfortable.”

“I’ll admit, this is a little draftier than I’m used to.” 

She laughed. “For that, I would be tempted to offer you a kilt.”

“I definitely don’t have the knees for that.” He followed her to a dressing room off the hall where a pile of clothes waited. 

“Pick whatever you wish.”

The fabrics were much nicer than anything he’d worn before. He quickly picked a pair of butter-soft jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. Long sleeves, but for this meeting, he’d push them up. Show off the new arm, subtle intimidation. Black workman’s boots, made of a material that adjusted when he tied the laces to a perfect fit.   
M  
A brush, toothbrush and an electric shaver waited for him when he emerged. “Is this a hint?”

“Yes,” Shuri replied bluntly. “Your hair looks like a mouse has been at your man-bun, you had pepper soup for lunch, and your stubble is edging towards “wayward yeti.””

“Too late to make a good first impression on Ross, you know. He already met me.” And had thrown him in a tiny box. Which, to be fair, he probably deserved, even though it made his skin crawl. 

He tidied up a little, though he put his hair right back into the same type of man-bun, as Shuri called it. It was much easier with two hands. Then, he looked at himself in the mirror and nodded. It wasn’t like Bucky Barnes, circa 1942 was looking back, but it was enough to see the ghost of the boy he’d been. 

He stepped out. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“You clean up pretty well, white wolf.” She led him back up the ramp and stopped outside a door. 

Ross looked up when he entered, offering a slight smile. “Mr. Barnes, thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” His eyes flicked to the new arm, then back up to Bucky’s face. 

He nodded, slipping into the seat across the table. 

“Princess Shuri tells me you’re doing well,” Ross offered.

“What do you want?”

Ross looked relieved. “I’ve been reading the files that His Highness provided, and I see we’ve misjudged your situation. On behalf of the United States government, I’ve been authorized to negotiate a settlement.” 

“A settlement?”

“Amnesty for any crimes committed while under Hydra’s control, and for Captain Rogers and the rest of his team. In return, you agree not to bring suit against the government.”

“What.”

“It came to light that Pierce wasn’t the only one with knowledge of the Winter Soldier program. And that several missions were sanctioned by the former head of the CIA. The American public is righteously pissed off. And they want change. Several of your files were leaked, I’m afraid. Thankfully, heavily redacted, but well.”

“Oh.”

Ross nodded. “Yeah. There’s a hell of a shake up happening. As a result, I’ve been authorized to negotiate amnesty.”

Bucky stared at him. “You know I killed Americans,” he said flatly. “Presidents, candidates, diplomats. A lot of people.”

“The CIA is aware. We also are aware of the barbaric acts of torture that Hydra used to force you to do those things. It was a unanimous vote that you were not criminally or morally responsible for any crimes.”

“Ask Stark how morally responsible he thinks I am,” he said. 

“Stark was provided with a briefing. He was not... enthusiastic about the subject, but indicated that the Avengers would abide by it. All things considered, with the public outcry, they couldn’t do any less.”

What about Steve? And his group? Will they be Avengers again?”

“That is more difficult. The Avengers are a privately owned and funded group,” Ross said carefully. “Again, with the Captain’s popularity soaring, it could happen, but for the moment...”

“So, not unless Stark changes his mind.”

“Exactly. We would be interested in offering him his own team— minimal oversight, US based.”

Bucky snorted. “Let me be in the room when you try to sell that to him. I’ll bring snacks.”

Ross smiled wryly. “Unfortunately, my superior insists that I make the attempt. I, personally, have no illusions on Captain Rogers’s reaction. He does what he feels is right. We’re fortunate that he has such a strong moral compass.” He looked back down at the table, seeming uncomfortable with what he’d just said. 

Bucky got the feeling he’d gotten a rare glimpse beneath the “company man” exterior. 

After that, things progressed quickly. Shuri sent in a lawyer who was versed in international and US law, and before he would have expected, he was signing his given name for the first time in seventy years.

He agreed not to carry out assassinations or to terrorize the general public, but it left him open to join Steve and his band of idiots to protect and defend. 

And then, he was free to return to the States. The homecoming he’d never expected, even before Zola and his bastardized serum. From the day his draft ticket came in the mail, he’d never believed he’d come home.

Shuri stuck her head in the room. “The Captain’s plane is in range, and preparing for landing. Would you care to meet it?” 

Bucky nodded and stood, pausing to thank his lawyer, and Ross. 

“Jesus, don’t thank me. My superiors would have been just as happy to let you swing, if it hadn’t been for the evidence T’Challa put out there. They’re just bowing to public outrage.”

Bucky shrugged. “Wasn’t thanking them.”

Ross gave him a slightly startled smile. “You’re more than welcome.”

As he walked up to the landing pad, he couldn’t help but marvel over the change a couple of weeks had made. He wondered if the triggers had been messing with him, even when they were dormant. He didn’t remember feeling this clear headed in Romania. Or, maybe it was one more Wakandan medical miracle. 

Maybe it was proper food and rest, and not feeling hunted. 

Whatever it was, he stepped out into the bright Wakandan sunlight, and even smiled at Wilson as he disembarked. 

“You look... less murderous.”

“You look like you were mugged by a mudslide,” he offered, reaching up (with the metal hand) to pull a twig out of the other man’s hair. To Wilson’s credit, he didn’t flinch.

“He never mentioned what a dick you are.”

Bucky shrugged the metal shoulder and looked back at the door where Steve was silhouetted. Even at this distance, he could see the naked hope and joy on the other man’s face, the dawning smile.

Yeah. He couldn’t walk away from that if he tried. Instead, he stepped forward, feeling his own lips curve. 

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, Steve.” Really, who else was he gonna be?


End file.
